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(Honestly, i can't be arsed to properly edit this extract. I tired myself out by watching too much RTVE and TV3 and trying to figure out language.)

Part 4 of La Tramuntana, continuing from learning that the word “Vidostorubero” means blood in the most inappropriate way

La sangre. La sang. Those were the words i knew from my area for blood. And they were nothing like vidostorubero.

That was the intention of Northern Spanish, after all; to obfuscate and render unclear everything, to define a new identity well-separated from Spanish. It was not a natural outgrowth of Vulgar Latin, a refined dialect perfected over hundreds of years to the need of the people. It was artificial, synthetic, built from nothing but years spent on mixing dictionaries to find the weirdest words.

And here, that was quite obviously going to get in the way.

Someone needed help. They'd stepped on glass and were bleeding out.

And i watched the shit go on around me. Screams and swear words from the injured, the guys around doing little.

Save for one person. They jamp up and ran out of the building. To get a payphone?

But no, they had different ideas. “Necesite un noscom-mill!” screamed someone.

I didn't understand. “Un médico, ¡por favor!” i heard. They want doctors.

Fuck the language barrier. Bad memories from when i was 13, having just moved afresh to Madrid, knowing only English. And yet again, the barrier was presenting itself.

It'd be worse, i told myself. The words here were not simple derivatives of English words. The grammar was just as complex. If i was lucky, i might still be able to rely on my conjugation knowledge. Start where i left off; the future subjunctive. Is it still in decline here?

But i would do it. I will. I've already taught myself how to go from noob to expert and i was going to do it again.

So i watched, pushed out the distracting trauma-avoidance mind-rants and watched.

A person ran up to look at the guy who'd fallen, ran and used a spare serviette to block the bleeding. He left the glass in, i think. That's a good idea, maybe…?

Another guy ran off, and another. What?!

“Onita, what the fuck's going on?”, i asked.

She was staring just as deeply as me, unturning. “Normal rules is that the first to get emergency assistance gets a small cash prize.”

And then she shrugged. “Oh, and also, those who don't get a small cash fine.”

She was sitting still. “What the fuck?”, i asked. “Aren't we going to go avoid it?”

“Noe pedoe ae-sis-stair”, she said. “Language barriers invite our freedom”

I paused for a second. She's going to fake that we don't understand?!

“That's a crazy idea”, i said.

And we sat and watched. But wait, “Isn't English like the internation- inter-regional language?”, i asked.

“Yeah, not that the locals are expected to be all that fluent in it. We'll probably be fine”

The person wasn't bleeding out as much. Hair isn't that kind to blood. It gets matted as it dries, becomes a liability.

And he lay there, being nursed by the human.

The ambulance arrived. It held a group of humans and two werewolves. And they brought out a stretcher, grabbed the fallen, and took him away.

A new emegency service. Clean-dressed, blue shirts, smart. Well-paid, probably.

And they looked over the restaurant. A glare, a stare, a dare to us all. “¿Quien aquí no ha ayudado a la persona en emergencia?”

The room became and remained silent.

The policeman repeated himself. “¿¡Quien aquí no ha ayudado a la persona en emergencia?!” Who here hasn't helped the person with the emergency?!

And glances were exchanged. People pointed at each other. “Llamé a la policia”, said someone. I called the police!

“Pues…”, said the policeman. Well.

“Manos arriba, quien haya ayudado” Hands up, anyone who's helped.

We were baffled foreigners. Onita and i acted confused. We didn't know the language, we attempted to communicate with our expression. I knew the language, to a conversational level. But i made sure not to show that.

No, we were gringo and we were not understanding.

Anista came back. “What the fuck's happened here?”, she asked. “Porqwei hey policio officerios?”

Fuck… i thought Onita had a bad accent.

The police caught on, stared at us. “You!", they said. “Did you help the fallen man?”

Onita glanced around. In her best valley girl accent; easier for her, having heard her normal accent, “nah… was i supposed to…? Like, it was never mentioned.” she said.

“You're american?!”, asked the police. “Well, you'd be used to the cost of medical.”

“How much?”, asked Onita. She'd went for a different strategy, running together her syllables. “aiw's lukin' forwrd t'iting.”

“You can either pay the fee of ¤20 or bribe us not to fee you for ¤15. If you buy both you get 50% off.”

“Lemme run the maths; twenty plus fifteen is thirty-five, so half of that is somethin' like 17, right?”, i said. “I'll pay the bribe, then.”

“But ain't that illegal?”, asked Onita, in a different American accent. “Bribes are bad right?”

“The government turns an eye blind”, said the policeman.

This Onita woman is good at accents. WTF?

An accompanying policeman began the walk up, collecting the money.

So, i took out the ¤15. These were northern banknotes, trilingual; “diez ¤; diev ¤; ten ¤” said one note, featuring the picture of some shack in grassland, behind it a werewolf. Back when they were in the human world. And the ¤5 had a small map, covered with the jagged criss-cross flag of the Spanish Empire and the flavour text.

“I'll have that”, he said to us.

And i gave it away. “Shame, that… i was going to have dinner out”, said Onita.

The policeman shrugged. “The problem is not mine.” Not my problem.

And the police left, having picked up their fare. Hungry, we left.

“Pre-made food does exist here.”, said Onita. “Just go into any store and get what you like.”

So, i did. Cracked tiles, a shop in want of some touch-up. I found a section.

A sudden pang of nostalgia. The meal deal. And here it was, in front of me.

Mix three things; a main, a snack, and a drink. Ew, it all looked artificial. But it was still food.

“I should have brought more”, said Onita. “Eh, i'll expect the police next time, bring more money.”

¤10 found its way into my hands. And i bought three sets, one for each of us. So cheap, ¤2.50. I wish we had this on earth.

And we sat outside, in the setting sun, eating.

The three managers, eating out. Eating out out, not just in out.

And we sat there. A leaf detached itself, floated down onto the street. The streetlights flickered and turned on, a sickly yellow. The day-businesses were closing shop. Now'd be the dead hour, as the nightlife waited its little while to open up.

And i ate. The local fizzy drinks tasted nothing like the earth ones. They felt more like juice mixed with carbonated water. The sandwiches felt meatier, more wholesome.

And i loved it here. I felt happy to sit with those who i could call “friends”.

And a bee zipped its merry way about, harvesting from flowers. And a werewolf slapped themselves, a mosquito having had landed on then. And a sky was turning a darker orange.

“What time do you think it is on earth?", i asked.

Anista shrugged. “Dunno… we shift timezones every month, so i don't keep track.”

“What?!”, i asked.

“Days are only 23 point 3 6 recurring here”, she explained. “We move east an hour every month.”

“But the clock had 12 points…?”, i asked. “How can we have less then 24 hours in a day…?”

“They're tuned to run fast”, said Anista.

And we sat there in the sun.

And a mosquito landed on me. They hurt like i had found they did. A little stabbing pain, as if from a drawing pin lightly probing against my skin. I slapped it. A small red splotch of blood.

“Do mosquitoes spread infection here?”, i asked.

“Yes, but the mosquito-carried ones are species-specific and humans kill all the big mosquitoes anyways… no need to worry”, said Onita.

“Positive pressure from inside the body helps push blood out”, said Anista. “Let's just say it's unlikely to get a blood infection.”

I sat there. The conversation had finished. But something came back to me within a minute.

“What was the accent about?”, i asked Onita.

“Oh, nothing, just some dialect counselling my pimp gave me”, she said with a shrug.

“So… your pimp paid to have you learn accents?”

“Yep, he said it'd help if my clients could request i dirt-talk in some accent”, she said. “Some like the valley girl, others the Posh Refined British Bloke.”

I cringed. No, not my home accent.. “Don't do that, it creeps me out!”

“What, so i cannot be Proper And Refined?”, asked Onita.

“Not in front of me:”, i said, clenching my fists.

And Anista chuckled.

“Bonjour a tous”, she said. In a good accent.

“I didn't know you spoke French”, i said.

"Don't worry, i'm a native speaker… it'll come useful in decoding Northern Spanish”, she started. “I heard someone scream ‘fekorrer’, once."

“And that means help, decoded through Catalan secórrer”, i finished.

“And the French ‘secourir’.", said Anista. “Stop stealing our words.”

“I can hear Quebecois in that accent", said Onista. “Stop stealing European languages.”

“Touché”, said Anista.

I chuckled.

We spent a few moments in silence. I'd read once that moments like these were the best, everyone searching for a little snippet of conversation.

“What happened in the restaurant?”, asked Anista.

“Someone stepped on glass, big panic, people ran off to the hospital for 'cash prizes', the police charged everyone else.”

Anista tightened her lips. “They don't give cash prizes.”

Onita instantly withdrew a little, made herself just a little smaller. It was a social cue i could just barely pick up.

“They were running out to avoid the bribe.”, said Anista.

“I told you not to inject morale into me through lies”, i said to Onita.

“It was society's occupations you told me not to lie about”, she said with a shrug.

I glared at her silently. I trusted it'd communicate more then simple dialogue.

“Ha, you have no argument”, she said.

I shrugged and stood up. I had finished my food.

“Let's go to the brothel and do shit.", i said.

“Y'know?”, asked Onita. “I think we should try getting ourselves a handful subsidy.”

So, she guided us down a few streets. “How do you say government office in Spanish?”

“Oficina de governmiento”, i said. “Kinda obvious.”

So, we walked and walked, past decrepit building and cracked street.

Except there wasn't. There was this one building sitting there. Modern, at least as modern as one could get here.

And we walked in. “Go say we're working for the pekatuf brothel and we'd like a grant”

pekatuf. Our street name, how memorable.

And the lady at the desk eyed us over. “Déjame adivinar. ¿Español estándar?” Let me guess. Standard Spanish?

“Sí.”, i said.

“Que te quieres?”, she asked. What do you want?

I glanced to Onita. She didn't understand.

So i went back to looking at the clerk. “Somos de la pekatuf brotel, quieramos una subvención”. We're from the northern brothel and we'd like a grant.

“Puedes esperar en la salo de espera” You can wait in the room of wait.

“Y la persona de subvencionada vendrá?” And the subsidy person will come?

“Sí, por supuesto”, said the clerk. Yeah, of course.

"Y tambien habla inglés", she added. And she speaks English too

So, we went to the waiting room.

We sat and waited. A fly, a big one, was buzzing about.

And someone came. "You're from the... Pekatuf brothel?"

"Yeah", i said. "We were looking for a subsidy."

"Perfect! Office S9 and we can talk!"

So we walked past spick and span halls, past gleaming lights, all the cliche signs of some posh person's place.. Except, of course, this time it was for the people.

"I'll be your dedicated subsidy agent for the next three years", she said. "The former manager used me for two years"

"Ok", i said.

"Here it is, S9", she said.

So, we entered the room. A fresh smell.

"Which subsidies or grants are you applying for?", she asked.

"What are available?", asked Onita.

"Well, there's the expansion grant, the salary grant, the expansion grant... What do you need most?"

Onita thought for a little while.

"Well, i think we need some kind of accommodation.", said Anista. "We spent last night in a sex room."

"Well, they have beds, don't they?", asked the clerk. "Surely you can sleep on them...?"

"It's a room made for sex", said Onita. "They fucking stink."

"Perfect, i can get you a ventilation grant! I'll start you with 10 for some air freshener and we'll see how you do!"

"That really isn't enough", said Anista. "Plenty of our employees often have to spend the night in the brothel and the mattresses are fucking uncomfortable."

"Well... We could apply for a mattress grant, but that's too much of the government's resources. Let's just get some extra blankets to sleep on, 50'

Are we stuck with this agent?! Fuck!

"Just wondering... How is agent-switching done here?" , asked Anista.

"Not much", said the agent. "You got the best one anyways, the one that wins the most medals for 'reducing government spending through strategic subsidy supply to stupidly selfish snakes'!"

who the fuck came up with that stupid name?!

"But if we wanted to..." said Anista.

"Well, we could arrange that. Best we could do is a month!"

“So… let's take the subsidies”, i said. “And we'll see what we can do.”

“Yeah”, said Onita.

“We'll send you the cash by mail. You may only spend it on what it was assigned for or you may be at risk of losing access to the strategic subisidy supply program.”

“Fine”, i said.

And we left. We walked down for corridor.

And we stepped back outside, into the dark.

“To the pekatu brothel”, i said. “And we shall subsidise ourselves!”

Onita duly showed agreement and little more.

And we walked back.

And the prostitutes had set themselves up for tonight.

And i met with my client.

A werewolf, shorter then the average, less full, less massy; almost at a human size. Muscular to some degree, with some chub appearing out.

“Let's go to the voyerism-reciever rooms”, he said.

“The what-now?”

“Y'know, one-way glass, it's like everyone's watching.”

You're gross, i almost said. I wouldn't, though. “So, that's ¤125", i said.

And the guy handed me the money.

So, we went in, and we undressed. The street was in full view. We weren't.

“Go, show me those legs”, he said.

I stretched out my leg at his command, revealing skin-divots on the side of the knee. I teasingly moved my foot to reveal a moving divot. He stuck his fingers inside, tracing the skin.

“I love you humans for these holes you have”, he said.

This guy's a nymphomaniac. No, no, a satyromaniac, he's male.

Yeah.

He ran his fingers down my legs. He pushed a little and it hurt a bit. The tingles didn't feel that nice anymore.

“We should do psuedoanal”, he said.

“What's that i asked?”

“I fuck your urethra”, he said. “It's not as painful as it sounds.”

“We shouldnt”, i said.

“No no, it makes perfect sense.”

I shook my head. “My urethra is for letting things out.”

A couple walked past us outside. I cringed a little, being so exposed.

“Go on", he said. “I know what i'm doing, it won't bleed too much.”

“No.” I said. “I'll give you a refund.”

I stood to grab my clothes.

He grabbed me. “Don't touch me!” i shouted.

But he didn't listen. He pulled me back and held my dick.

“As i said, it won't hurt. Not too much at least."

I stared him down. “No. I said no.”

I looked around me. No.

So, i stood up and pushed him away. “You're getting a full refund. I do not feel comfortable anywhere near you.”

And i threw the money back at him and left. I was still pulling up my trousers when i arrived into the hall.

Anista was returning. She spoke in a quiet voice. “Ce qui s'est passé?”

“In English”, i said. “I don't speak French.”

“What the actual fuck happened?”, she asked.

“Client wanted to fuck my urethra.”

She nodded silently. “So you felt uncomfortable?”

“Yeah, and we were even in a voyeurism room.”

“…? Aren't those for drinking tea and massaging clients?”, she asked.

“Are they?”, i asked.

“I thought you'd've'd known that they were used for non-sexual encounters.”, she said.

We reached the main room, and i saw two new humans, a pair.

One taller, one shorter. The taller pointed at me. “o olin e ona la mani li kama tawa sina.”

What language is this?!

And the shorter one walked to me. “You speak English, ¿verdad?”.

“Yeah”, i said.

“Sweet. So you work here? Prostitute? Manager?”

“Both”, i said.

"tenpo kama la mani li kama!”

Something about “the money”….?

“What are you saying?”, i asked.

“In the future… er… money will arrive into this nation and help make it prosperous”, he said.

“What language even is that?”

They paused a little. “A simple language to promote nice thoughts.”

“Hmm…", i said.

And i shrugged. “So, you're here for…?”

The short one began. “Well, i'd heard that there were gay people in this brothel so i had a look for myself. Open to a relationship?”

Gay people are hard to come by. The rate simply happened to be higher among werewolves for their genetic mixups.

“Well, yeah, depending on if you make a good friend or not”, i said.

“Well, we're both human, that's a start”, he said.

“Yeah”, i said. “So… are we going to have sex or not? There are paying clients here who'd do well for the economic prosperity.”

The tall one smiled at that. The short guy was also inspired. “So, yeah, let's meet tomorrow lunchtime.”

“yeah”, i said. And my heart fluttered.

And we entered a sex room, a normal one. Were we going to sleep here with air freshener?

Stay tuned for part 5, in which we develop the romance portion of the story

---

Some notes:

• I'm writing this in some point between 20:00 and 03:00. I plan to fill that time with a lot.

• Today was very productive actually. I taught myself a bunch more Chinese characters and did some listening excersices, taught myself a Spanish verb tense (the -ar pretirite in indicative form), and even shoved some Toki Pona in it.

• Si quieres, puedo escribir muchas historias españolas de hombres lobos y que cosas calientes (sexuales, después un discusiono en Discordo) se hacen.

• ????????????????????

• Boyslove, i've heard, is a very popular genre in China. It's the main reason i'm studying the language at all. Eh, once i'm there so much more will reveal itself to me.

• What i hate is that such productive days are far and few between. Eh, i took two do-little days on the weekend so there, i guess that explains it.

• English will always be my “comfort language”. I know i'm good at it and fluent in it. My Spanish is nowhere near that level. Sure, i could write that sentence without checking a dictionary, but not without having to have its grammar checked. And then the Chinese…

• About half the chinese sentence involved me looking up things i'd noted and used before, and even finding about this new “?” word. I learnt ? just today from conversation (in English), and “???” required a dictionary. I am not very good at spoken Chinese yet and my written Chinese counts as “barely”.

• ?? literally translates as “small speak” IIRC and means novel…? WTF? Eh, it's better then no-vel as in English. I love Mandarin for the way the vast majority of polysyllabic words make sense.

• The pair learnt toki pona as a secret language. I am considering writing stories in toki pona and this is a trial. Maybe one day you'll be able to read ~“lipu pi jan insa ma jan soweli”~ "jan lon ma pi jan soweli"! Toki pona speakers, don't spoil the twist! :p

• Miguel and Michael came to me from the song John and Johnathan by Allie X. Their main resemblance is in the fact they kind of form an isolated support-each-other pair. They'll go up and they'll go down, and it just so turns out they're on the town.

• (To continue description text) I learnt that the English word cadaver and Catalan cadáver (accents in the right place IIRC) (i wonder if Catalan has a seperate word for a dead body; like, English ha corpse and body and cadaver but Catalan has a smaller volcabulary) are cognates, and after that point it became "these people are speaking a foreign language" instead of "Oh, interesting point", so i paused the videos and went back to being monolingual :p.

• Everyone says “oh, don't learn two languages at once and especially not romance ones” but what they forget is that i was also learning Mandarin and toki pona on the side so this is actually an improvement.

• Eh, if i can manage both LT and AA at the same time as well as all my other hobbies i'll be able to manage two semi-similar languages. Ok, there are times i used Catalan clitics in Spanish sentences, and perhaps more worryingly, Spanish words in Catalan sentences, but these are just growing pains.

• My therapist (of course i have a therapist; is producing werewolf porn something normal humans do?) is worried about just how much i do and how little time i spend simply being. I'm not even 20, so, like, it's a lot.